


The Point, Not The Head

by Zayrastriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:26:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zayrastriel/pseuds/Zayrastriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uriel tries to get Castiel to join him and Lucifer.<br/>(It was never going to work.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Point, Not The Head

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this ages ago. Apologies in advance.

“I don’t understand how it happened,” Castiel whispers again, vessel’s shoulders hunched and voice rough, pained.

Human.

Too human.

You clench down on the thought, hard.  No matter what the other angels are saying (whispering murmuring gossiping with _human_ malice), you will not betray your brother.  Not even in the relative (only relative) safety of your own thoughts.

This is Castiel, blazing with righteous Grace, the one you are risking all for (so you can love him in peace, love him more than the treacherous Father of yours.)

* * *

 “Please, Castiel,” you beg him.  **I love you**.

You don’t speak those, let them resonate through your Grace and into his.  “Our Father has left us.  Our brothers in Heaven no longer care.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel protests quietly, but uncertainly.  “Michael, Raph-“

“Will watch us die.  Lucifer wants us.  Loves us.”

And that is more true than you admit.  Even in those tense weeks before the War, when Lucifer was gathering allies, his love for anyone in the Host that extended into neediness.

(Replacements for Michael, and well – who can blame him?)

For one blessed, agonising moment, there’s a hint of thoughtfulness in your lover’s expression – but it gives way far too quickly (far, far too quickly) to doubt.  “It’s not right,” he says stubbornly.

You want to be annoyed at what would, for anyone else, surely be mere wilful stubbornness.  But –

( _This is Castiel, blazing with righteous Grace_.)

“How?” you persist.  “You know that Heaven does not care; and you must remember the War, Castiel.  You must remember Lucifer.  You _know_ he cares.”

“For us,” he agrees, and you would think that would be enough; but Castiel doesn’t.  “Not for humanity.  I do remember the War, Uriel.  I remember why it started.  He would see them _dead_ -“

“And why is that our concern?”

Now you are angry; you cannot help it.  To think that Castiel’s doubts rest on _humanity_ – on the mud monkeys, the upstarts who think themselves gods.  You weren’t on Earth when Nietzsche wrote his heretical garbage, and there’s no touching the souls who, for whatever reason, somehow find themselves graced with eternal Heaven.  “You never used to care about the _animals_ , brother,” – but even as he opens his mouth to reply, you remember.

Why you were sent down in the first place.

 _I was getting too close to the humans in my charge, Castiel parrots – the language stilted and archaic, surely a product of Zachariah’s pomposity_.

“This is about Dean.”

Castiel flinches visibly, violently.  “Uriel-“

“That arrogant, broken little piece of Hellspawn,” you say quietly over the top of him.  “Are you in love with him, Castiel?”

Another flinch, and oh you are hurting him but you can’t _care_.  “Don’t be a fool-“

“Want him to fuck you, brother?  He would, I’m sure – he’s really nothing but an animal in heat at the end of the day-“

You barely duck the fist he throws your way.  “How _dare_ you?” Castiel hisses.  “After everything – after you chose _Lucifer over me_ , _how dare you_ -“  All of a sudden he pulls back; takes a deep breath he doesn’t actually need. “Promise you won’t support Lucifer,” he murmurs, all anger drained from his voice (leaving it flat and numb, Grace somehow dulled).  “Promise, Uriel, and I will not report you to Heaven.”

“No.”

And with that you draw your blade (because you know he’ll win, he’s always been better than you, and if you can’t live with him you’ll die by his hand.)


End file.
